


The Denial of A Lost Son

by Isolophiliac



Series: Idiosyncrasy Among Brothers [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Bruce Wayne is Dead, Grief/Mourning, Panic Attacks, Tim needs a hug, aftermath of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:17:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isolophiliac/pseuds/Isolophiliac
Summary: Tim knows Bruce isn't dead, he can't be.





	The Denial of A Lost Son

Timothy Drake stared at the ugly red lines and the faded purplish-grey ones that littered his arms, his legs, bits and pieces of his exposed flesh, his pale blue eyes taking in each and every scar that marred his unhealthy pale skin. He had spent the past… he didn’t know how long locked up in his apartment on his laptop, researching something, looking for something, the only problem was that he didn’t know what that something was. He hadn’t left his apartment for a long time, that he certain of, not since Dick had become Batman and Damian Robin, not since Bruce had died.

And maybe that was the problem, Tim couldn’t help but think. Maybe he’d lost his mind, maybe he’d end up Jason or one of the crazies in Arkham. He just couldn’t help it, he knew something was up, something was wrong, he could just feel it. They’re hadn’t been a body, it was like Bruce had just disappeared and people didn’t just disappear.

_Something was up, something was wrong._ Those six words just repeating over and over again in his head as he typed away, looking for anything that proves his gut feeling, something that could get rid of the itch that just wouldn’t go away. Tim knew that he was in denial, that this was just another stage of grief, but still… instincts may never have been concrete but that didn’t mean that they were always wrong, he felt like this for a reason, a reason more than just someone’s death. Right?

_Something was up, something was wrong._

Tim typed faster, looking through everything he could find that raised his interests, sending what evidence of crimes (smuggling rings, a few con websites, not what he was looking for) he found to Oracle.

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock._

Tim jolted up in surprise at the sudden noise, sparing a glance at his door before returning his gaze to his laptop, hoping that whoever it was would just go away.

“Timmy? It’s me, open up!”

Shit, it was Dick, he definitely wasn’t going to go anytime soon. If Tim didn’t answer the older man would probably just sit outside his door whining like a depressed puppy until he let him in, or until he decided to pick the lock.

“I know you’re in there, Babs told me you haven’t left in days.”

Tim rolled his eyes, he should’ve known that Barbara would check his apartment building’s security footage, most likely at Dick’s request.

“Come on Tim!”

Tim went back to his typing, he still could hope that Dick would leave, right? Wrong. With a quiet click his front door swung open revealing a rather annoyed looking young man with naturally tan skin and bright cerulean eyes.

Dick slammed the door shut behind him, waltzing up to where his adoptive little brother sat, still staring at his computer screen. “I knew you were in here!” He exclaimed, his brow furrowing with worry as his eyes scanned Tim and the state he was in.

Tim’s clothes were loose and wrinkled, his hair was a mess that even Dick’s bedhead couldn’t compete with, and he kept biting down on his lower lip, a sure sign something was seriously bothering him. Dick couldn’t help but hope this had nothing to do with him choosing Damian over him to be Robin, that choice was justifiable, but then again it was most likely the justifiability of that choice that had made Tim hate it so much.

Dick sat down on the small beige sofa next to Tim, causing the younger boy to tense and abruptly slam his laptop shut. “So… Why didn’t you answer the door?” Dick asked, his gaze unmoving.

_What’s wrong?_ Dick thought.

_Go Away._ Tim’s mind pleaded although he’d never say it out loud.

“Oh... you know, just thought you were one of those annoying peddlers or something.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. _Seriously Tim? You could do better than that._

“Really?” Dick asked, and Tim, staring determinedly at the nothingness in front of him nodded.

“Yep, been having a serious problem with them lately.”

“Un-hun.” Dick hummed, amused.

“Yah… _People_ just seem to _keep showing up_ where _they’re not wanted.”_

_Ouch. That one hurt._ When did Tim get so cold? Of course Tim never really was the temper tantrum type.

“What do you mean by that?” Dick asked, slowly. The key to getting Tim to reveal anything was to just keep the conversation going, he usually ended up revealing something personal without even realizing it, lost over analyzing some other aspect of the other person’s words.

“Nothing, what did you think I meant by it?” Of course in order to do that you’d have to get him to stop asked questions and honestly answer some, which was about as easy as getting Babs to admit she was wrong about something (which never seemed to happen, much to Dick’s chagrin).

“Nothing,” Dick said, repeating Tim’s words.

“Why are you here anyway?” Tim asked, still looking at nothing.

“Just thought that something might be up, that’s all.”

“I’m fine.”

Dick rolled his eyes.

“Yes, because barricading yourself in your little hovel of loneliness is ‘fine’.”

“I’m not-” Tim started, finally looking at Dick. “Barricading myself anywhere. And this isn’t a hovel it’s an apartment.”

“You haven’t left this building in almost three weeks.”

_Oh, so that’s how long it’s been._

“Why are you here?” Tim asked again, just wanting the conversation to be over.

_Why won’t you go away?_

“I’m worried about you...”

_I’m worried about me too._

“You can’t just keep hiding up here...”

_Why can’t I?_

“This isn’t healthy...”

_What’s wrong with it?_

“Come back to the manor, whatever’s going on we can figure it out...”

_What is going on?_

“Or at least just get out of your apartment...”

_I don’t want to._

“I know things have been tough with Bruce’s death…”

_You have no idea._

“What’s wrong, Tim?”

_What’s wrong with me?_

Tim’s fist’s clenched, he was staring into nothing again, and this just made Dick worry more. Tim had always been the smartest out of all of them, sometimes it felt like he was even smarter than Bruce, but he was never to best at communicating. When it came down to it Damian and Jason both let out their problems, maybe not in the best of ways but they always got there with some coaxing and anger management. But with Tim it was different, he didn’t get angry like Jason or emotionally confused like Damian, he’d just shoved it all down into the pit of his stomach until he did something like this to hide it all.

Tim felt like the room was getting smaller, he didn’t want to talk about it, the feeling in his chest, why couldn’t Dick just understand that? His thoughts were suffocating him, clouding up his brain and derailing his train of thought.

_He wasn’t Robin anymore! That’s what was wrong! Bruce died a suspicious death! Crime was everywhere! Nothing Bruce did felt like it mattered! People just kept disappearing! Why was everyone leaving him! Why did they leave him alone! He needed them! Why did they just keep going away!_

Tim couldn’t breathe, it was all just too much, so much information he just didn’t want to process. He didn’t realize Dick’s arms were around him until he was leaning against the older man’s chest, blood running down his hands from where his nails had pierced his skin.

“Shhh, Timmy. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Dick soothed, trying to calm down his hyperventilating little brother. Tim moved his hands from his sides to his head, pulling at his hair and digging his nails into his scalp. The pain was a distraction, it calmed him down.

There was just too much, too much chaos, too much change it felt like the world had been pulled from underneath his feet like a carpet. So much had happened that he wanted to change but he couldn’t, he couldn’t help them. He didn’t want to believe it, that Bruce was dead, that all this, everything was happening, it was and he couldn’t change it.

But for some reason, he just couldn’t accept that.


End file.
